


Fuck, Marry, Kill

by MaxWrite



Series: Hockey Night in Canada and Everything After [9]
Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Mission: Impossible (Movies) RPF
Genre: Language, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rules are simple. The choices are clear. The answers are … complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuck, Marry, Kill

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for _Vanilla Sky_. I guess minor spoiler for _Rock of Ages_.

Simon hears Tom's voice calling to him from outside the room but can't make out what he's saying. Sitting on the floor in the mini theater in their house, Simon is surrounded by DVDs, Blu-rays and even LaserDiscs, some lying haphazardly around him, others stacked in little piles, and yet more inside two large cardboard boxes that have never been unpacked. He and Tom are home together this weekend and Simon is doing what he's been promising to do for months; organize their movie collection. No small feat, as the assortment of movies lying around him is only a fraction of what they own.

He looks up from the two films he has in his hands, glances back toward the theater's door and yells, "What?"

"I said …" he hears Tom say on the opposite side of the door. His voice sounds closer now but still strangely muffled, like he's eating something. He probably is. Tom's a bit of a grazer.

The door opens and Tom steps inside wearing loose cargo shorts, gym socks and a baggie black sweatshirt with the hood up. He looks terribly cute. He's carrying a small bag of candy and is still chewing a mouthful. He's always had a sweet tooth.

He swallows and says, "I said … Fuck, Marry, Kill."

Simon perks up at the mention of the popular game, though before he can let Tom get on with it he has to quip, "What's that, your five-year plan for our relationship?"

With an appreciative smile at the joke, Tom trots down the little carpeted aisle steps that separate two small sections of comfy dark-gray leather chairs. The room is cream and charcoal with regal-looking moldings framing the walls and delicate little sconces helping to light the space. He comes down to the front row and sits before Simon in one of the comfy chairs. Looking around at the mess Simon's made, he asks, "Why are you doing this? I told you, you didn't have to."

"Our movie closet haunts me. How did it get so bad?"

"When you moved in we dumped your shit on top of my shit and didn't go in there again for eight months. That's how."

"Well, I can't find anything in there when I need to … you said something about Fuck, Marry, Kill?"

"I did. Wanna play?"

"Always"

"Okay, here are your choices: Stacee Jaxx" –

"Fuck," Simon instantly says. "Definitely fuck."

"You gotta let me finish. Stacee Jaxx, Ethan Hunt, David Aames. Go."

They're all characters Tom has played. Stacee and Ethan are from _Rock of Ages_ and _Mission: Impossible_ , but Simon has to think for a moment to remember who David Aames is. Just when he thinks he'll have to suck it up and ask Tom to tell him, he remembers that Aames is from _Vanilla Sky_. At first Simon thinks Aames will be the hardest to place, but as the plot of that movie comes back to him he quickly realizes Aames is the easiest. For a second he is distracted when Tom thrusts forth the little bag of what Simon can now see are gummie bears, offering him some. Simon waves him away with a frown.

"I think I've got it," Simon says finally, shifting around so he's facing Tom. "Aames dies, obviously."

Tom frowns at that. "Really?"

"Of course."

"You say that like it should be obvious."

"Well, it should, shouldn't it? The man's lived more than one lifetime already, hasn't he? He's had his time."

Tom nudges chewy bits of candy from his teeth with his tongue and says flatly, "Okay."

"You look perturbed."

"I _am_ perturbed."

"Why?"

"I thought he'd be your marry. He's a good guy, don't you think?"

Simon shrugs. "He's all right, I suppose. Bit cocky."

"He lives in the future. I thought you'd be into that."

"Well, what about what's-his-face from _Oblivion_. He lives in the future. Why didn't you pick him? He seemed nice. Might not've killed that one."

"That was a dystopian future. _Vanilla Sky_ has more interesting tech. And Jack. His name is Jack."

"You play a lot of Jacks … then again, so do I."

"You'd really kill him? After everything he went through?"

"A hundred and fifty years, Tom. That's more life than any man deserves. He's gotta go, if only because my other two choices don't get the option to live that long."

Tom gives him a half shrug. "Fair enough. Well, we already know who you're fucking."

Simon scrunches up his face. "Mmmmm I dunno …"

"What, you're marrying Stacee?"

"Maybe?"

Tom gives him a lopsided grin. "Really?"

" _Stacee's_ the good guy. He was a bit lost, yeah, but in the end it turned out all he really wanted was a nice stable relationship. Makes sense; the life of a rock star is a bit tumultuous. Years of constant travel and groupies and the fickle nature of the media might make a guy crave a little security."

"Interesting. You're surprising me, Pegg."

"You know me; I'm nothing if not predictably unpredictable."

"So. Ethan."

Simon nods. "Ethan."

"I thought your 'marry' would be a toss-up between him and Aames and you'd kill Stacee."

"What?" Simon laughs. "You thought I'd murder the sex god? Are you mad?"

Tom grins again. "You really have a thing for him, huh?"

"A brooding musician with tattoos, tight trousers and eyeliner? Um, yeah, Tom, I'm not blind."

Tom nods thoughtfully, still looking amused. "Interesting."

"Marrying Ethan was my first thought, actually. But he's married to his job. He'd be away all the time, and besides, being too involved with him would put my life at risk. Nah, he's the Netflix-and-Chill guy, all the way. Swing by for a little fun whenever he's in town. No strings, no fuss."

"Huh. Interesting."

"You keep saying that."

"Is that what you like? No strings, no fuss?"

"Of course not."

"Should I leave?" Tom asks jokingly, thrusting a thumb at the door behind him. "Should I check out for a couple of weeks and then 'swing by for a little fun'?"

"Oh, stop it." Simon pushes some of the movies out of the way and shimmies over to Tom. He settles on his hip between Tom's legs and puts his head on Tom's knee while curling his legs up beneath the chair. He caresses Tom's calf and says, "You know you're my Stacee. I think you're more like him than Ethan. You need normalcy like Stacee does. Despite all Ethan's whinging about all the mad things he has to do, the fact is normalcy would kill him. I suppose that's true for you to an extent too, but you don't sacrifice your home and family life for your work. Ethan's had to let go of people he loves because his job comes first. That's not you. No, you're the rock star, the guy who loves to entertain but then also needs safety and stability. People think you're all shine and glamour, but really you're just like them; a guy who likes to relax in horrible clothes and occasionally eat junk food."

"Heh," Tom quietly chuckles, but then frowns down at his sweatshirt and asks, "Hey, what's wrong with my clothes?"

"Nothing, darling," Simon coos, patting Tom's calf. "No, I would not prefer a no-strings relationship. You're my Ride-or-Die, baby, not my Netflix-and-Chill."

Tom nods approvingly. "I like that explanation."

Simon kisses Tom's knee, then looks up at him again and says, "Besides, _Renner's_ my Netflix-and-Chill. Everybody knows that."

"Yeah, we need to talk about those texts he sends you."

Simon snorts out a laugh. Jeremy is straight as a board but likes to amuse himself by texting Simon things that would raise serious sexuality questions if Simon's phone ever fell into the wrong hands. "Look at it this way," he says, "if you ever need it, we have plenty of blackmail material."

"True. Okay, my turn. What've you got for me?"

Simon thinks for a while, long enough that he thinks Tom might get impatient. But Tom seems content with Simon's weight against his leg. He strokes Simon's hair and waits, his little bag of gummie bears forgotten in his other hand. When Simon looks up at him, he finds Tom watching him serenely. Tom smiles at him.

"Deep thoughts, huh?" Tom murmurs.

"This is serious business."

"What'cha got?"

"Well, Benji Dunn, obviously. And Nicholas Angel. And Graeme Willy." Benji and Nicholas from _Mission: Impossible_ and _Hot Fuzz_ respectively. Graeme is the shy, pudgy nerd from _Paul_.

"Oh, I see how it is," Tom says.

"What?"

"You think you know me so well."

"No, I'm genuinely curious what you'll do."

Tom stops petting Simon long enough to grab a gummie bear. He bites it in half and says, "Fuck Nicholas. Clearly."

Simon laughs. "Gonna be Captain Obvious, then, are you?"

"Well, come on, look at the guy. He's, um …" Tom gets a secretive little grin on his face as he eats the other half of the bear. He gets a far-off look on his face as he chews and seems to have forgotten he's supposed to be talking. Simon gets the impression that Tom's copy of _Hot Fuzz_ has been well loved.

"Tom?" Simon says.

"Hm?" Tom says, looking down at him.

"Need I ask why you'd shag him? Besides the fact he's a young, pretty blond."

"You know the old saying: 'it's always the quiet ones'. I suspect he's secretly kinky."

"Oh, really?"

"Absolutely. All that pent-up stuff's gotta go somewhere."

"Maybe it goes into his job."

"I dunno. I would think he'd need other outlets. He's so perfect and straight-laced. There's gotta be a ton of things he's keeping inside and they'd come out in, uh, interesting ways. And he's in such good shape. I'm sorry, you can't tell me he wouldn't be spectacular in bed what with all that muscle control. Man, if you could get him to let go a little and just … open up …" Tom trails off, realizing he's probably saying too much. Simon merely watches him with an amused smile. Tom clears his throat and says, "I wouldn't wanna marry him. He'd drive me nuts with his nitpicking. But just sex?" He nods and grins mischievously again. "Yeah. Definitely fuck."

"All right, calm down. Christ, am I gonna have to locate myself a cop uniform and go platinum blond again?"

"I certainly wouldn't object."

"Let's move on before you need some tissues and a cigarette."

"Okay. Graeme. I'd marry him."

Simon raises his eyebrows at him.

"I'm serious. He's sweet. He's really, really sweet." Tom's hand finds Simon's head again and he gently finger-combs through Simon's hair. His gaze goes soft and dreamy as he says, "He is the sweetest fucking thing."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"He reminds me of you."

Simon sits up straighter, instantly indignant, and Tom's hand slips from his head. "I beg your pardon? I am not _sweet_."

"I know, I know, you're rebellious and unpredictable, but deep down – deep, deep down inside your squishy, melty core – you're a big, sweet marshmallow."

"Pfft! Where'd you come up with that load of tosh?"

"Ask the guy who was curled up in my arms for an hour this morning before he even bothered to get out of bed."

"Yeah, all right, I'm a ball of cuddles, but that doesn't mean I'm _sweet_. I'm not ashamed of being affectionate and loving. Sweet is different."

"How?"

"It's … I dunno, it's … sickening and artificial. It's forced smiles and arse kissing. Those gummie bears of yours are sweet and, as a result, god-awful for you."

"Aww, you misunderstand." Tom starts petting him again and says softly, "I don't mean that you're artificially nice. You don't pretend, I know that. And I wasn't saying that Graeme is like that either. When I say that you're sweet I just mean … behind all your walls, you've got this vulnerability that disarms me. Always has. It came as a shock to me, you know? How intensely you trigger my protectiveness. I know you hate that I feel that so strongly toward you, but I can't help it. There were times early on, when we were filming _Mission 4_ , when I'd walk into the room and you'd look up at me and … we still didn't know each other very well so you were on your best behavior, so eager to please and worried about screwing up, and I could see that in you, for split seconds at a time, before you got your armor back up. Your eyes betray you. That expressive face." His fingers glide down to Simon's cheek to caress it. "You tried to hide it, tried to be cool. But those little moments of vulnerability were so nice to see. They were real. And they were sweet. And when you finally let your guard down with me, on purpose, I knew I was doomed. You?" Tom takes Simon's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You are the sweetest thing I have ever had."

For a moment Simon just smiles because he knows there's nothing he can say now. "You know, you can't win every argument with some grand rom-com speech. It's not fair."

Tom laughs and releases Simon's chin. "I'm sorry."

"Well … I guess when you put it that way, maybe I don't mind being a marshmallow." Then Simon realizes something and frowns. "Hang on. That means you're killing Benji."

"Mm-hm."

"Benji? But he's the puppy. Why would you kill the puppy?"

"Process of elimination. It was a toss-up between him and Graeme and it wasn't an easy choice by any stretch. They're pretty well-matched in terms of British adorableness."

"What tipped the scales?"

"Honestly? I think that with all his skills, Benji could survive anything I might throw at him. Graeme wouldn't stand a chance."

"So, you're cheating."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. You gotta kill someone, and you, technically, have chosen to kill no one."

"Well … the rules don't say your attempt has to succeed."

"Nooooo, the rules say _'kill'_. Not ' _attempt_ to kill'."

"Every premeditated murder begins with an attempt. And let's be real here, this _would_ be premeditated."

"Cheeky bastard," Simon says affectionately, giving up the fight, not because he thinks he's wrong or that he couldn't win, but because he's not that invested anyway. If, in Tom's scenario, everyone can live, Simon's happy with that.

"It's no different than what you did," Tom points out. "You picked the one guy who'd already been alive a hundred and fifty years."

"All right, so we're both cheaters."

"Ironically, probably why we make such a good couple."

"Graeme, huh? Tom, I had no idea."

Tom shrugs. "He's a cutie."

"So, if I got fat again, you wouldn't be upset?"

Tom offers Simon some candy, this time holding a single piece out for him. "Just more of you to love, beautiful."

Simon accepts this time, opening up and biting the bear's head off. "Trying to fatten me up?" he asks as Tom tosses the bear's body into his own mouth.

"Maybe. I do kinda like your little tummy when you have one."

"Well, that's nice to know. Takes some of the pressure off," Simon says with a groan as he shifts away from Tom and goes back to his movie piles. "We need to give some of these away."

"What? Why?"

"We're running out of space, believe it or not. This pile here is the ones that I think we can let go."

Tom sits forward, on the edge of his seat, and leans over to get a closer look. Then he's down on his knees, candy bag dropped to the floor as he grabs for one of the DVDs. "We're keeping this one."

"Tom. When was the last time you watched _Spice World_?"

"That's not the point," Tom says, clutching the plastic case to his chest.

Simon sighs and goes on sorting. "You know, your anglophilia might be getting out of hand. Oh, hang on." He holds up _Rock of Ages_. "Look what I found."

"Oh, look, it's that movie starring that guy you're cheating on me with, you bigamist," Tom says, taking the Blu-ray case from Simon and looking at it a little wistfully.

"We should watch it again. Later on. Together. In bed maybe."

"I'll do you one better. I might have a pair of jeans lying around that are a little too tight on me. I could squeeze into them for you and take my shirt off."

Simon stops sorting again. "I'm listening."

"I could have my assistant run out and grab me some black eye liner," Tom adds nonchalantly, still examining the case.

"You'd wear eyeliner for me?"

"I might wear a lotta things for you."

Simon smiles to himself and quietly says, "Okay."

He continues sorting, now with Tom's help, occasionally letting Tom hand-feed him gummie bears. But then he stops and looks over at Tom while Tom is still trading movies back and forth between the "go" pile and the "stay" pile.

"Can I ask you something?" Simon says.

"Hm?" Tom says without looking up.

"Why did Aames hit you so hard?"

Now Tom stops and looks at him. "What?"

"When I said I was killing Aames, you gave me a look like I'd threatened to slap your mum."

"Oh. Yeah, uh …" Tom puts the movies he's holding down on the floor. "Thing is, when you're young you can be really stupid, you know? It can take a long, long time for some people to get a clue. A hundred and fifty years even."

"You identify with him."

"A little. I identify with all my characters in one way or another. Your comparison of me and Stacee is really interesting to hear, because I never identified with Stacee as much as David."

"Makes sense in a way. As much as you understand Stacee, you still needed to see what _others_ saw in him to really get what made him larger than life. You can see him as a star, but you don't see yourself that way even though that's what you are. To you, you're just you."

"Yeah."

"And I killed you."

"Yeah."

Simon shifts closer to Tom. He reaches out to touch Tom's cheek as he leans in to gently kiss his mouth. "I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't know," he murmurs between kisses.

"It's okay," Tom replies when the kisses subside. "What if you _had_ known?"

"Still woulda killed you." Tom laughs hard at that, which makes Simon smile. Then he says more seriously, "Here's the thing, though: you see yourself more as David, but I don't. I wasn't killing you. I was killing a man who'd had his time." He pauses and asks, "You don't think that of yourself, do you? That your time has passed?"

"No. I mean … no? Maybe sometimes. I …" Tom sighs. "Sure, I think about the day when maybe I won't be able to do what I do anymore. I always say I'll happily work behind the camera if I can't work in front, but … in front is good. Really good. It's my home. I don't wanna let it go."

"It's gonna be a long, long time before that becomes even a remote possibility. You know that."

"Maybe."

"You're so hard on yourself. As much as you preach about ignoring the bullshit and just getting on with it, you beat yourself up more than anybody else. You're not David. I'm not saying he's a bad guy, but you're so much better off than him. He lived a million years and most of those years were all in his head. You've learned more in just over fifty years than he did in a _hundred_ and fifty. He eventually got a clue, sure, but it took him forever and it doesn't change the fact that he initially chose stasis. He chose stagnation. He chose a comfortable fantasy rather than facing his imperfect reality. You would never do that."

"I guess. But sometimes it feels like it's taking me a hundred and fifty years to get a clue. Let's be real here, the beginning of our relationship wasn't exactly a smooth ride, and it wasn't that long ago either."

"That was both our faults. I wasn't perfect."

"I'm older than you. I should've" –

"No, don't," Simon gently says, reaching over and taking Tom's hand. "We figured it out. Look at us now. We made mistakes with each other and we learned from them. That's what matters." He shrugs. "Maybe I'm being too hard on David. Doesn't matter when it happens, as long as it does, yeah?"

Tom smiles warmly at him, squeezes his hand and softly says, "Thank you. You know what?"

"What?"

"You're sweet."

"You're pushing it with that," Simon says affectionately.

Tom then looks away and surveys the work they have ahead of them. "This is gonna take forever. This isn't even half the movies we own."

"We can work in short bursts; twenty minutes here, twenty there."

"Mm. We may need snacks."

"You have a snack."

"That's just gelatin. We need something real. Be right back." Tom gets up and heads for the door, calling back, "Any requests?"

"You know what I like, I trust your judgment," Simon replies. He gets back to work, getting up and crawling over to one of the cardboard boxes and flipping open its flaps. The stacks of movies inside make his shoulders slump.

"Hey, Lisa?" he hears Tom say. He glances toward the door as Tom walks toward it, away from him. "Yeah, uh, you mind swinging by the house tonight? Anytime is fine." His voice drifts away as he exits. "Yeah, um … can you pick me up a black eyeliner? Never mind what it's for …"

END

**Author's Note:**

> [Simon Pegg Reveals Jeremy Renner Sent Intimate Selfie To Him on Mission Impossible 5 Set](https://youtu.be/Lpse9m8ZHOQ) (Edited in after the fact because I forgot to include it initially. Apologies.)


End file.
